“We have Baxter staying with us because Tish decided to go out of town this morning. Why did you think Tish and Sara had been fighting?”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s anything.” He waved away the question. “Tish and Sara haven’t gotten along since Tish tried to blackball her certificate last year.”
All psychics working in Crystal Haven have to be licensed by the city council to practice within the city limits. I knew it could ruin their chances of starting a business if it didn’t go through.
“I didn’t know about that.”
“It all blew over, and Sara got her certificate. Sara was really good. Tish was jealous.” He shrugged. “She was just causing trouble.”
“I wonder if Mac knows,” I said, pushing the food around on the plate, hoping Alex hadn’t noticed I wasn’t actually eating it.
“What does Mac have to do with this?” He sat back, watching me carefully. Alex had been my biggest support when Mac had ended our relationship by moving to the other side of the state. He knew, better than anyone, how hard it would be for me to see Mac again.
“He’s the detective in charge.” I took a very small piece of tofu and ate it. This was torture on a mostly empty stomach, and Alex had ruined my drink. “He’s with the sheriff’s office as their homicide detective.”
“Oh, right. I heard about that. Well, it’s a good thing you’re not on the Crystal Haven force, or you’d have to deal with him.”
“Trouble is, because I’m a witness, I do have to deal with him.”
The waitress approached with a Styrofoam container. I tried to gesture with my eyebrows to abort the mission, but she just kept coming. Alex noticed what she didn’t and turned around.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Just a take-out burger. For Seth,” I said.
His expression told me he wasn’t buying it.
“I guess you better hurry before it gets cold.” He stood and walked to the kitchen without saying good-bye.
“You know I hate eggplant.” My voice sounded whiny even to me.
*
Leaving Stark’s place in the middle of the day was disorienting. The bright sun blinded me as I stepped out of the dark restaurant. I turned in the direction of my Jeep just as Officer Andrews rushed toward me out of a crowd of afternoon tourists and almost knocked the precious Styrofoam cargo out of my hand. We fumbled for a moment before I managed to get both hands on it and save my lunch from going splat on the sidewalk.
“Clyde, I’m sorry, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I saw your car parked up the street and I’ve been in every store.” He stopped to take a breath.
“What’s wrong, Tom?”
He held up one finger while gulping air. I noticed we were attracting an audience.
“Everything’s fine. I just really wanted to catch you before you went home.” He glanced up the street toward the police station. “We can’t talk here. Will you meet me at my mom’s house in five minutes?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s this about?”
“Not here. Five minutes, please?” At my nod he darted off up the street.
I didn’t remember him being so skittish. Of course, the last time I’d seen him he was shooting cap guns and I was counting the minutes until I could take my money and run.
I drove to Jillian’s house, which was located a few blocks away from the commercial section of town. I wolfed down half the burger before I got out of the car. The house looked smaller from the front than it actually was. With all those children, the Andrews family had needed space. Jillian also ran her business out of the house. She was a spiritual healer, and much of her work involved client consultations. A sign in the front window read: PSYCHIC HEALER, HERBS, AMULETS, CRYSTALS.
Tom opened the door before my finger was done pressing the doorbell.
“Hi, thanks for coming.” He pulled the door wide and swept his arm toward the back of the house.
I had never been in this house without wishing for heavy-duty earplugs. When the Andrews gang was growing up, the noise level had always been just short of deafening.
“I’ve never been in your house when it was this quiet.” I had fallen unintentionally into a whisper.
“Or this clean,” Tom said.
He was right. The front room used to contain all manner of plastic dolls, toys, and ride-on vehicles. The sheer volume of clutter seemed to add to the noise. In the absence of children, Jillian had turned it into a serene sitting room with off-white furniture and neutral accents.
“Do you still live here?” I asked as I followed him down the hall to what I thought would be the kitchen.